


Living Crime

by a_thirsty_queer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Mixed feelings for Connor, Reader is an android, Reader works as a police pscyhologist, Slow Burn, So not the generic detective story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-04 22:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17313092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_thirsty_queer/pseuds/a_thirsty_queer
Summary: Working as a police psychologist, you're requested to aid the deviant cases alongside Hank Anderson and RK800 aka Connor. What they don't know, however, is a big secret that you have to keep under wraps, or it could kill you.Reader uses they/them pronouns.





	1. How It Began

**Author's Note:**

> Reader uses they/them pronouns!!
> 
> Background: the reader is an android prototype, designed to function just like a human, more so than any other android before them. They can display genuine emotion, empathy, etc. Fearing deviancy, Amanda canceled the project and the reader was forced to run away, or else be faced with being taken apart. They’re able to repair and upgrade themselves, as they were designed to be independent. They know a lot of androids and help Connor constantly as he continues his missions to take down deviants, with deeper motivation lying underneath…

You practically slammed the door as you entered your home, shaking off your coat and hurriedly taking off your shoes. Ecstatic barks and whines greeted you, a large German shepherd, Satsuki, practically leaping onto you.

“Hey, girl.”

A simple lick on your hand was her response. As you fed her, you turned on the TV to a random new channel.

A reporter frantically stating a hostage situation; the first ever murder of a human by an android.

Your eyes widened. An android? You could see him from a helicopter, holding a small child, threatening another man, a negotiator of some sort.

You commanded the TV to pause. As the screen stopped on a close up of the unfolding scene, your database detected something off about the man confronting the deviant android.

_**Model RK800.** _

_**CyberLife prototype.** _

_**Designed to assist police forces wi** **th cases involving deviating CyberLife products.** _

A new android? You gave the order for the TV to play. The scene skipped ahead, moving to the current unfolding scene.

All you see is the deviant and the prototype fall off the building before the broadcast cuts to black.

“What the fuck. What the fuck?” You jumped off your couch, startling your dog. She looked up at you and whined, worried about your outburst.

“I’m sorry…” an apologetic pat on the head and all is forgiven.

You turn back to the TV; the subject already changed to some bland overdone story about kittens. The TV, connected to your hard drive, turned itself off.

You took Satsuki for a walk, not long, and the entire time your thoughts stay focused on the events from earlier. Even before you shut down for the night - not necessary, though you found it easier convince others you had a sleep schedule - you still think about that poor kid and the two androids who plummeted to their death.

Your timed shut down of six hours “woke” you up at 6:30 am, giving you plenty of time to get dressed, look after your sweet girl, and prepare for work. You check the contents of your bag, making sure you had your keys, tablet, wallet, phone (you already had a phone in your hard drive, but owning a physical device didn’t raise as many questions), and other small things you enjoyed; stimulants like putty, fidget cubes, etc.

You gave the German shepherd a light goodbye kiss on her forehead before putting on your shoes and heading out the door.

The first thing you noticed when you walked into work was the absence of the stench of alcohol. You sighed in relief, as much as you love Hank, you’re not sure how much more you can take of his awful habits. Emptying some of the contents out of your bag and onto the desk. You organize your tablet and begin working.

Sometime later, you realize some of your other coworkers coming to and from the break room with cups of coffee. You had a silent debate to see if you should grab some for yourself. Quite frankly, you hated the stuff, the feeling of the bitter black liquid along the artificial receptors of your tongue. However, you argued internally, it does help integrate you amongst your coworkers, helping avoid suspicion.

Sighing in defeat, you drag your legs to the break room, smiling at Tina and giving a half-hearted wave as you reach for a mug and pour yourself a cup of sour coffee.

Footsteps interrupt your trance as you gaze into the pitcher emptying into the #1 Employee Mug. You turn around and are immediately met with large brown eyes staring into your soul.

“Hello, I’m Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife. I’m looking for a Lieutenant Anderson, have you seen him?”

Stepping back and grabbing your mug, attempting to put a bit of space between you, you get a better look at his face.

_**RK800.** _

You make an audible gasp of surprise.

“You… you’re that android. From last night.”

He tilted his head in confusion. “ I beg your pardon?”

You continue to gape at him.

“Oh.” the realization hit him. “If you are referring to the hostage situation from last night, then yes, that was me. CyberLIfe has uploaded my consciousness into another android.”

“I can see that.” you winced internally. You didn’t mean for it to come across as so blunt, but your shock took the better of you.

“Where is Lieutenant Anderson?” never mind. He’s just as blunt as you were.

You calmed down from your initial shock, and when realizing who exactly the android was looking for, you let out a scoff.

“Beats me. If he’s not here, you better check a bar.”

“Thank you, Doctor (Y/N).” with that, he left.

You would have been startled if it weren’t for the fact that you soon realized that of course, as a prototype designed to assist with police cases, he should have access to public records.


	2. A New Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fowler's got a request for you, spiraling your life into a mess of confusion and crime scenes.

Soon after your odd encounter with the rather rigid android- then again, what did you expect; androids are designed to act monotonously- Captain Fowler called you to his office. Putting a pause on your work, you brushed off any wrinkles and imaginary dust particles off of your clothes and walked up to the stern man’s door. Knocking out of politeness before you entered, you took a seat in front of Fowler’s desk.

“You asked for me, Captain?”

“I did, (Y/N). I’m assigning you to a specific case.”

“Captain?”

Assigning you to a case? You were a psychologist for the Detroit Police Department, helping your coworkers, witnesses, victims, even criminals themselves. The nature of your job implies that you work for the department, not for specific cases.

“These strange deviancy cases are nothing like anyone’s ever seen before. CyberLife recommends we not only use their special android-” his face twists in annoyment at his own mention of the meddling of a capitalist organization with police work “-but we also might want to use someone trained in the Psychology field to analyze these deviant androids to determine the exact cause of this virus.” At the mention of ‘virus’, he pauses, taking time to think of an appropriate word to describe the scenario.

You nod your head. “I understand, Captain. I’m willing to help the department and CyberLife in any way possible.”

On the outside, you remained calm and collected, but if Fowler had paid more attention to your body language, he would have noticed your tensed up shoulders, your gritted teeth, and your balled fists.

Fuck CyberLife.

You weren’t exactly the best at displaying emotions, even if that was the nature of your design. You still struggled with maintaining and controlling your waves of feelings and impulses, and this was an example of that aforementioned struggle. Thank god the Captain didn’t notice. He waved you away before diving back into some paperwork.

“I’ve already sent the location of the first crime scene to your phone. That is all, Doctor.”

You stood up and left the man’s office, muttering something along the lines of ‘have a nice day’, before packing up your things and leaving.

A short car drive later, and there you were. It was a small, sorry excuse of a house. You were surprised that someone could live there, but at the same time you understood with the unemployment rate and the government’s nonchalant towards their own people, many people didn’t have much of a choice. Exiting the vehicle, you walked up and past the police tape, give small waves and nods of acknowledgment to officers that you passed by.

You stood by the porch, talking to some of the police trying to gauge the situation and what happened until you heard voices behind you.

“What part of ‘stay in the car’ didn’t you understand?”

Your head perked up. You recognized the voice as Hank’s. You admit, your mind had been elsewhere when that android had first come up to you asking about Anderson’s whereabouts, but now you were at full attention, ready to greet that old bastard.

“Your order contradicted my instructions, Lieutenant.”

“You don’t talk, you don’t touch anything and you stay out of my way, got it?”

“Got it.”

Another officer- one you really didn’t care enough about to learn his name- walked up to Hank and chatted him up, mocking him for the android who trailed behind him. When Hank asked him what had happened, the other man gestured to you.

“Why don’t you ask them?”

Hank’s eyes followed and widened slightly when they landed on you. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, a smirk plastered onto your face.

“Hey, hot stuff. ‘Bout time you got here.”

He smiled at you. “(Y/N), the hell are you doin’ here?”

You two shook hands before coming in for a tight hug. You pulled apart to answer his question.

“Fowler assigned me to this case, believe it or not. He said CyberLife wanted a shrink to help figure out why the androids are going Maximum Overdrive.”

You cleared your throat before you got too off-track.

“So, you guys want the details? Landlord originally called around 8, tenant hadn’t paid his rent for the past few months, so he decided to take a look for himself. Then he stumbled upon the body…”

You led Hank and Connor inside the house, where Hank loudly complained about the smell of the corpse.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Hank.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You continued on. “Guy’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Record of theft, aggravated assault. Neighbors said he was a loner; that he stayed inside most of the time. They hardly ever saw the guy. “

“Uh, state he’s in… Wasn’t worth calling everyone out in the middle of the night… Could’ve waited ‘til morning.”

“Forensics thinks he’s been here three weeks. We’ll know more when the coroner arrives, though. There’s a kitchen knife this way… Most definitely the murder weapon.”

“Any sign of a break-in?”

“Nope. The landlord said the door was locked from the inside and all of the windows were boarded up. They suspect the killer must’ve exited through the back.”

You knew that wasn’t right. You could see the traces of thirium trailing not through the back door, but to another room inside the house. The killer was an android, his android, and they hadn’t left the scene. You needed to find a way to get them out of here fast.

“What do we know about his android?”

Fuck.

“Not a whole lot. The neighbors confirmed he had one, but it-” you mentally cringed at yourself for referencing them like that “-it wasn’t here when cops first showed up.”

Hank walked over to the writing on the wall, observing its neat font.

“Each letter is perfect… It’s way too neat, no human writes like this.”

“It’s CyberLife sans,” you explained. “Their signature font. All androids are programmed to write in it.”

The graying man turned to an officer. “Chris, was this written in the victim’s blood?”

“I would say so. We’re taking it in for analysis.”

Hank warily eyed a bag of a vibrant substance.

“Red ice… seems our friend Carlos liked to party… Chris, I want full analysis on the narcotics.”

“Consider it done, Lieutenant.” the officer replied.

You found yourself watching Connor, observing him as he walked around the crime scene. You felt something odd in your chest, almost as though your thirium pump was not working properly.

“Hang on, gotta take care of something…” you muttered to Hank and Chris as you made your way outside. You ran an analytics test on your biocomponents, worried about the state of your pump, but found no issues that could’ve created a problem. You frowned. That’s odd. Normally your body is in top shape; is there a possibility there’s something wrong? Faulty wiring, perhaps?

You knew one thing. You definitely couldn’t check the exact problem here.

You head back inside, making the flimsy excuse of an urgent phone call from your aunt or something.

Placing a hand to your chest, you felt the heart replicant beating steadily. So why was it malfunctioning earlier? You look back at Connor.

And why did it happen when you looked at him?


	3. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor apprehends the deviant, leading to an interesting and fatal interrogation.

Connor leaned down to examine the body. You’re sure if he could smell it, or, hell, if he were sensitive about death like humans were, he would’ve scrunched up his face in disgust. But he didn’t. Continuing to stare at the body of Ortiz with a morbid curiosity, you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. ‘Why do you care?’ you thought to yourself. ‘It’s not like he can form opinions. He’s just scanning the body for anything out of the ordinary…’ Pulling your eyes away from the fellow android and moving toward the drug-abused corpse, you began to analyze him yourself.

_**28 stab wounds. Internal bleeding. Deceased more than 19 days ago.** _

_**Traces of Red Ice in victim’s facial hair.** _

_**Fingerprints ID one Carlos Ortiz. Criminal record of theft, aggravated assault.** _

_**Height: 5′6″ - Weight 286.6 lbs. Estimated time of death: 11:30 pm.** _

Piecing together what you could, you assumed the android had initially acted out of anger, judging by the number of wounds and the writing left on the wall. Considering the recent cases of deviancy, something must’ve sparked the need in the android to strike back. Thinking back about Ortiz’s use of Red Ice, it made sense that the owner was most definitely the first to strike; the wasted man instigated the fight, and the android fought back to defend themselves. You looked back to Connor, seeing his LED blink yellow rapidly until transitioning to blue, reconstructing the events leading up to the murder.

“He was stabbed 28 times.” His voice snapped you out of a trance you didn’t even know you were in.

“Yeah, seems like the killer really had it in for him,” Hank responded.

“No shit,” you muttered, still feeling a bit off from earlier. Your pump was starting to beat erratically again, and you were having difficulty controlling the rise and fall of your chest. Connor gave you an odd look before walking over to the bloody message near Ortiz. You continued to stare at the wounds, the decaying, swollen face. The beating in your breast was replaced by a feeling of horror, so there was that, at least.

Hank snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey, kid. You doing okay?”

You released a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, Hank.”

“Fuck no you’re not. I knew it was a shit idea for you to be here. Look at you, (Y/N). You’re as pale as a sheet.”

“I’m fine, really.” You didn’t know who you were convincing, yourself or the aged cop next to you.

“Go. Home.”

“Hank, I was assigned to this case by Fowler, I’m not just-”

“Why’re you making this difficult?”

“Hank. I’m here. I’m going to help.”

He waved you off before following Connor. “Sure, whatever.”

You crouched next to the body, pulling out a small tablet you kept in your jacket before taking extensive notes on its state, theories of how he died, et cetera. When there was nothing else to record, you moved to the kitchen. A baseball bat on the floor.

_**Fingerprints belong to Carlos Ortiz.** _

Footsteps approach from behind you. Turning around, you’re met with warm brown eyes. Connor. You winced, expecting the same effect. Sure enough, there it was, but you noticed the beating wasn’t as hard as before. Thank Christ.

“The killer didn’t exit through the back.”

Collecting yourself, you cleared your throat and pointed to the bat lying on the ground.

“I think it’s possible that Ortiz attacked the killer first. There were no noticeable marks of blunt trauma anywhere on his body, but if you look carefully, you can see dents along the bat. I think the killer may have acted out of self-defense.”

He eyed you in a way that made you extremely uncomfortable. Cold. Calculating. Like you were a rat in a lab. _Like you were back there_. You thanked God as his eyes moved from you to the kitchen corner, and you knew he was reconstructing the attack in his mind. He got up and walked back to Lieutenant Anderson, while you stayed behind and took more notes.

* * *

 

A familiar voice rang out through the house.

“Connor, what the fuck is going on up there?”

The next words would send an ice-cold chill down your spine. “It’s here, Lieutenant!”

* * *

 

You were all back at the station, with you and the android sitting in the interrogation room. The eyes of Gavin, Connor, and Hank pierced through you, even though you couldn’t see them through the two-way mirror.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

No response.

“Why did you kill Carlos Ortiz?”

Nothing.

“Was it out of self-defense? If so, why stab him 28 times?”

Nada.

“Why stay in the attic? You had every opportunity to run, but you stayed there for three weeks.”

He didn’t even look at you. A tear began to form in the corner of your eye as you got up and exited the room.

“It refuses to answer any questions. Me being in there with it isn’t doing any good…”

You could feel your fellow android eyeing you with intense curiosity.

* * *

 

Connor’s P.O.V.

_**Software Instability** _

He shrugged it off as nothing more than a glitch in his system.

* * *

 

“We’re wasting our time interrogating a machine, we’re getting nothing out of it!” Hank cried out.

“‘Could always try roughing it up a little,” said Gavin. “After all, it’s not human…”

You were about to open your mouth to tell him to shut the fuck up, but Connor interrupted you. “Androids don’t feel pain. You would only damage it and that wouldn’t make it talk.”

Oh yeah. There was that too.

“Deviants also tend to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations.” You raised a brow at that. Okay. That was something you didn’t know, and you didn’t like what Connor was implying, either.

Quick, think of something! Hurry!

“You can’t just probe it? If you do that, you can send in the whole body to CyberLife so they can inspect hi- it, instead of sending him straight to a dump.”

Gavin got upset about being the room idiot again. “Okay, smartasses. What should we do then?”

“We should-”

“I could try questioning it.” No.

Gavin began to split his sides.

“What have we got to lose? Go ahead, suspect’s all yours.”

Dread weighed down on you, like the Earth on Atlas, and you wanted to scream and yell. You wanted to beg them to stop, to release him. But of course, they wouldn’t. Who cares about some dumbass hunk of metal and spare parts who decided to have feelings one day. Who cares about poor, tortured souls, forced to live every day for the mere amusement of awful excuses of human beings. You watched Connor interview him with bated breath, anxiety clearly written on your face. He played different variations of the role of interrogator, being calm and pleasant for one question, but violent and threatening for another. The android still didn’t give him what he wanted.

“I don’t want to die.”

That’s all you heard from him, and it was enough to make you want to break in there and take him away from the police station, away from all the awful humans and monsters of the world and give him a better life. Connor stood up, walking over to the other side of the table. He laid a hand on the house-keeping model’s back and leaned close to his ear.

“I had to know. You left me no choice.”

Did he probe him? You had zoned out again, you assumed. Today was probably the absolute worst day of your life, there was a lot you were trying to ignore. As Connor opened the door, the man began to bang his head against the metal table. This was it. The moment you feared of. He was self-destructing.

Gavin spoked up. “What the fuck is it doing?”

“It’s self-destructing.” you and Hank had responded to his inquiry at the same time.

You rushed into the interrogation room, followed by several officers, Hank, and Gavin.

“Stop it! We can’t help if you do this!” You begged him, but he ignored you, the holographic skin exterior fading and replacing with exposed damaged wires and leaking thirium. Someone had attempted to pull him up and away from the table, but considering the android’s strength, he couldn’t do anything.

“That’s enough! You need to stop that right now!” Connor’s voice rang throughout the room. It may have been your imagination, but Connors attempt at intervention made things worse.

That’s when it happened.

The officer had uncuffed the suffering mess, only for him to quickly grab his gun. He shot Connor right between his eyes, thick, blue liquid splattering onto your face. He slowly raised the gun, pressing it underneath his chin, and

_BANG!_

Just like the other android before him, his body collapsed to the floor.

“Holy shit,” muttered Hank. He turned to Connor’s body, getting up as he did so, before looking back at the other empty husk. With all the confusion you were surprised you had noticed, but as you stared down at Connor’s empty eyes, you realized. Your pump was no longer malfunctioning.


	4. Let's Start Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The reader attempts to get over the previous night’s traumatic experience, however, Connor’s sudden reappearance isn’t helping.

Your dog was dumb as rocks. She never listened to you, never even attempted to act obedient, and Good Lord could she get annoying. But you’d be damned if she wasn’t there for you when you needed her. After the rather shocking events earlier in the evening, you wiped Connor’s thirium off your face- if you could, you would have thrown up- and immediately left for home. Your sweet, darling Satsuki had run up to you as you took off your shoes, and you were grateful for her kisses and soft whines of comfort. You knelt down beside her, letting the German Shepherd take complete control of the situation as she bombarded you with her tongue. You were going to regret this later, but at the moment, you didn’t mind. Her love reminded you of the good in the world after a day spent in Hell. You scratched her head and behind her ears, and she looked at you with her large doe eyes. Her brown eyes. In that split second of eye contact, your mind immediately thought of Connor, and you could feel artificial tears stream down your face. You wiped away your tears on your sleeve, before straightening yourself out and taking care of your guardian angel of a dog and resting in your bed.

Well, ‘resting’ isn’t the right word. You sat up straight on the end of the rather hard mattress- you didn’t want people to become suspicious if they found out you didn’t sleep- repeating the events of the interrogation room over and over in your mind. You hadn’t realized until you received a text message from Hank, but you had spent 6 straight hours thinking about lifeless bodies and blue blood.

* * *

 

Connor, the new Connor, that is, stood behind his instructor Amanda in his zen garden simulation as she tended to blooming roses in front of her. She asked a question, he answered. She moved to the subject of Hank Anderson and his opinion of the Lieutenant. Yet again, a straightforward answer.

“How about Dr. (L/N)? There’s been a report of complications with them at the crime scene last night, and then later at the interrogation room. Lieutenant Anderson wants them removed from the case for their own safety.”

“I think…”

What did he think? He was confused with your overly sympathetic personality at first, but he chalked it up to being part of your job as a psychologist; genuinely caring and helping in any form possible. He thought of your tearful look as you admitted you couldn’t help the deviant android, and he remembered how distraught you were when the suspect attempted to self destruct.

“I think they’re emotional. And while it appears as though their emotions can get the better of them at times, they’re also able to use that to their advantage in their field.”

Amanda gave him a calculating look before moving on to the next question.

“Unfortunately, we have no choice but to work with them both. What do you think is the best approach?” Connor thought for a moment before speaking. “I will adapt to their personalities.”

Amanda turned away from him, and the android could sense his relationship with her dwindling.

“It is in the best interest of this investigation that I avoid conflict and try to accommodate their psychology.”

“More and more androids show signs of deviancy. There are millions in circulation. If they become unstable, the consequences will be disastrous. You are one of the most advanced prototypes CyberLife has ever created. If anyone can figure out what’s happening, it’s you.”

Who were the others? A thought that briefly flashed through Connor’s mind before he responded.

“You can count on me, Amanda.”

* * *

 

A notification flashed across your monitor, pulling you from your thoughts.

 _Text Message from Hank Anderson: hey kid. u_ feelin _ok?_

_Respond?_

_Yes         No_

_Yes._

_You: Yeah, I’m doing alright. Yourself?_

_Hank: struggling, (Y/N). last night got pretty fucked, huh?_

_You: I guess that’s just part of the job…_

_Hank:_ lets _change the subject. u wanna grab a coffee with me on the way to work? my treat_

You smiled. Even if you didn’t like coffee, you had to admit it was a very sweet offer.

You: Hank, that sounds fantastic. What time can I expect you?

Hank: 20 minutes? i still need to take care of sumo before i leave

You: See you then. You took the time before Hank arrived to take care of Satsuki (who was belated to see you in a better state than yesterday) and to quickly change your clothes and grab anything you needed for work. You heard a car horn beep outside your door, and after giving Satsuki a light kiss on the top of her head before locking the door and walking to Hank’s car.

“Hi Hank,” you flashed a modest smile.

“Hey, kiddo.” he ruffles your hair playfully after you sit in the passenger’s seat. Hank had always treated you like a child, not that you were really complaining. You’ve never really had a parental figure in your life unless you counted Amanda and Elijah Kamski, who were pretty shit excuses of guardians. At first, you thought it had stemmed from the loss of his son, but as you grew to know him more you realized he was just a big ol’ softy if he really liked you.

You had a pleasant conversation, neither of you really wanting to talk about yesterday. Hank slowed down his car, and as he parked you saw an android station, several people lined up one behind another, and if your stomach could churn, it definitely would now. You quickly looked away, clutching your bag as you and your friend exited the vehicle. Hank orders a simple black coffee, and turns to you.

“What’ll it be?”

“Uh… I’ll have what he’s having.”

You honestly don’t know shit about coffee, so you just play it safe and mimic Hank’s choice.

“What size would you like?” The smiling barista asks.

“Uhm, a small is fine…”

“Okay, a tall, then.”

What?

“Oh no, I said small, not tall.”

Hank gave you a strange look. “Kid, you know we’re at a Starbucks, right?”

What?

“They call a small “tall” here.”

You felt your cheeks burn slightly from embarrassment, muttering a small apology to the graying man and the barista before pulling out your card to pay for your drink.

“Uh-uh, (Y/N). I said my treat, remember?”

“Oh, but Hank-”

“Let me do this for you, okay? It’s the least I can do.” You sighed in defeat, a playful smile on your face before you put your card back in your wallet.

You finally arrive at the police station, stomachs both full from a surprise breakfast; Hank insisted you have a full meal before work, ignoring your pleas of wanting to arrive on time. Standing at Hank’s desk was none other than the undead android Connor. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were, after all, you already knew CyberLife was able to repair and replace him from what you saw on the tv a few nights ago, but that didn’t change the fact that your eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets.

“Hello Lieutenant, Doctor.”

Hank looked like he had just stumbled his way into a horror movie.

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

“God, I saw you get shot in the head last night…”

“My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation.”

“Uh, Jesus…”

You could feel the stress and anger radiate off of Hank.

Summary: The reader attempts to get over the previous night’s traumatic experience, however, Connor’s sudden reappearance isn’t helping. “Hank, (Y/N)! In my office now!”


End file.
